


no good without you

by jugpea (sweetpca)



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Coming Out, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Jealous Jugpea, M/M, Multi, Power Couple, Protective Jughead Jones, Protective Sweet Pea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 16:19:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18832225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetpca/pseuds/jugpea
Summary: a collection of drabbles & oneshots created for and inspired by Jughead  Jones and Sweet Pea; lots of pining, mixed emotions, angst, fluff.mostly requestsif you'd like to leave a request for something Jugpea, send it inhere!





	1. i've got you babe

**Author's Note:**

> all stories are unedited with no beta, and originally posted to tumblr.

_**summary** : a soft jughead upset over his drunk dad, ft. comforting sweet pea  
 **a/n** : I did this sorta pre-relationship, and it’s like 1:30 in the morning and this was the first thing that popped into my head. I feared if I didn’t write it now, I never would, so I hope this is enough for you._

 

Once FP was tucked soundly into his bed, face shoved deep into the pillows, Jughead finally relieves himself of his duties and retires to the couch with a tired sigh. How close had they come? How close had he come? And stupidly, he believed that a retirement party at a bar of all things was a good idea – no matter the turn out, not matter how carefully conducted, the same result was bound to happen.

Things could’ve be mended, Jughead was sure of it. There were always so many possibilities for FP Jones, and he refused them all. All except for one.

Jughead looks to the fridge, wondering if there’s any leftover bottles in the shelves. He pulls his beanie from his head, stands, and trudges his feet along the carpet. He cleared as many empty bottles as he could from the living room table, and kitchen table, and then made his way over to pull the lever open on the fridge door.

Sure enough, another six pack nestled in the bottom corner, untouched, but surely waiting in anticipation to be drank by the drunk knocked out on the couch. Jughead peers over the window into the living room, ensuring there were no signs of his rise as he cracked them open, one by one, and tipped them upside down to drain down the sink.

While he waited for them to empty, he treated to the bathroom to brush his teeth and change into something with longer sleeves. A colourful reflection caught his attention through the bathroom window; he dropped the toilet seat down and stepped up out of curiosity.

Brilliant arrays of blues, reds and purples illuminated the tiny courtyard between the gathering of trailers. Jughead’s breath caught in his throat for a moment, wondering which Serpent could possibly be the culprit. Then, he chuckled once at the thought. A Southside Serpent unwinding his or her day with a lightshow.

After another minute of watching the lights swirl intricately, Jughead began to lower himself back to the floor before a movement pulled his attention to the door of the trailer. The figure was bent over, dark silhouette hard to make out until they stood and descended their stairs.

Jughead watched Sweet Pea carry two blue bins of recycling down into the pit, green hoodie three sizes too big for his already large frame. He jumped down from the toilet seat, quickly gathering the cans from the sink to toss into his own bin, slipping his feet back into his boots. He tried his best to keep the squeak of the door as quiet as he could as he exited, happy to see that the teen had noticed him, too.

Sweet Pea plopped onto the wooden steps of his own trailer, sliding over far enough to give Jughead enough room to join him.

“Sweets,” he greeted after sorting the empties. “What’s up with the light? You strip on the side, or something?”

“Just listening to music.”

Jughead nodded once, fingers absently folding and unfolding. “You left the Wyrm a little late. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

The step was damp, but Jughead didn’t mind. The chilling air, however, was a few degrees colder than he anticipated. “Open bar means a good time.” The Serpent replied nonchalantly. “I have a data management midterm Monday, and I need to study or I’m gonna totally bomb so I’ll be up for a while anyway. Shouldn’t you be in?” He inquired, leaning closer to bump their arms together.

Sweet Pea watched Jughead’s shoulders slump forward in defeat, raven curls falling over his already saddened eyes. There’s a brief moment where he envisioned reaching out to pull them away from his face, but quickly dismissed it.

“Long night. Tall Boy wouldn’t let the party die, so the party moved back here. Everyone’s gone now, and dad’s passed out, I was just cleaning up the trailer … ” he trailed off quietly, fidgeting the frayed threads on his sleeve.

Guilty, Sweet Pea turned his head to look down at the teen, thinking about how he had been the first to order a round of shots – one of which FP shot down whilst staring his son straight in the face. At the time, Sweet Pea hadn’t thought anything of the disappointment that shot across Jughead’s face. Thinking back now, his skin felt warm and stomach pooled nervously. “I’m sorry, Jones.” He breathed, unsure of what else he could really say.

“What? You don’t have to –”

“But I do. I … I called that first round. It completely slipped my mind that he wasn’t supposed to have anything to drink.”

Jughead dismissed it with a wave of his hand, hugging his knees up to his chest with a loud exhale. “It’s not that he’s not allowed. It was more that he said he wasn’t going to … and he did.” He began to felt his lip tremble, burning sensation building behind his closed lids as he let his face fall forward into his arms. He was careful with keeping his words clear and concise. “And I made a mistake, one he won’t let me fix, one he’s hellbent on fixing himself. All while jeopardizing everything, and for what?”

The Serpent gnawed on his inner cheek. “You wanna come in?” He offered, jerking his thumb to the half open door of his own trailer. “It doesn’t smell like booze.” He added.

Jughead didn’t even think twice before he was standing on his feet, following Sweet Pea into his home. It hadn’t been the first time he’d stayed the night, certainly wouldn’t be the last, he was sure.

He was familiar with the tweed couch, and itchy blanket, but had grown fond of the scent that lingered on the pillow Sweet Pea pulled from his own bed. But tonight he noticed that the area had been rearranged; he examined the furniture, new positions of the couch gave him a full view into the bedroom on the other side. He noticed that the lights were coming from a disco looking ball in the corner, and the gentle melody of something from Sweet Pea’s playlist came from the speaker of his phone it the other room.

“You know, if this keeps happening,” Sweet Pea gestured to outside and across the courtyard where Jughead’s own trailer sat, “My couch is always free – or my bed, if you’re here for more than a night in row.”

Jughead couldn’t help but smile. It was a thoughtful gesture, he decided, knowing that Sweet Pea was willing to offer up his own comfortability for him. From the moment he had met the Serpent, he had been shown a great deal of kindness. Or at least what he considered to be kindness, but he was sure that underneath all of the barriers and guards Sweet Pea had thrown up, there was a genuinely good hearted kid inside.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jughead mused with a smile, tucking his feet under his legs.

Sweet Pea busied himself with tidying up the rest of the space – not that Jughead cared if it were messy. Sweet Pea might have been the neatest teenage boy he knew. After a while, lights began to be flicked off, and Jughead nervously took his bottom lip between his teeth.

The Serpent noticed Jughead’s sudden change, and left the light on over the stove. He grabbed two cans of Cola from his mini fridge and wandered back over into the living room with a grin that stretched ear to ear. “Thirsty?”

“Thanks,” he mumbled as he took the can, wrapping both hands around its cold aluminum. “You don’t have to stay up with me.”

Sweet Pea shook his head, tugging half of the blanket over his thighs. “I know what dads can be like, and I know what alcoholics are like. Neither are easy to deal with.” He shrugged, leaning his frame against Jughead. “I just don’t want you to have to feel like you’ve gotta deal with that shit alone anymore.”

Jughead finally lifted his eyes to meet Sweet Pea’s, a look of wonderment taking over his features. There was something about his hooded lids and dark lips that felt so dangerously inviting, Jughead had to force himself to swallow back the lustful thoughts of surging forward to capture them with his own.

Oh, how he wondered what they’d taste like.

Sweets, not oblivious to Jughead’s hesitation, placed a comforting hand over his knee and squeezed tightly in reassurance, “A Serpent never stands alone. I’ll take care of you. You took care of us.”

A moment of silence hung between them. Uncertain of what he should say, Jughead placed his Cola on the coffee table and turned to face Sweet Pea. Then, he threw his arms over the Serpent’s shoulders and pulled him close, breathing in the leftover cologne from the retirement party. And there was no moment of hesitation when Sweet Pea’s arms returned the gesture, winding tightly around his waist to hold him close, tightly enough as though he were holding him together.

And in that long singular second, the bond that had been formed between the two teens solidified; there were now feelings of mutual respect, a foundation of trust, and perhaps even a ground of understanding.


	2. what's cookin good lookin?

**req:** _this was a prompt based request - sentence prompt is the title._

 

 

With skillful fingers, he touches the green surface and angles the pool cue. His victory had come quickly tonight, as it had every other night for the last week. Unsure of where the horseshoe had come from, or why it was shoved up his ass, he certainly didn’t squander the opportunity to make a little extra pocket change.

He wondered if the horseshoe could provide him with a little more help in another section of his life. It had been months since Sweets had first set his eyes on Jughead Jones, and truthfully, he hadn’t been able to look away since. Completely enamored with the teens fiery spirit and dorky persona, he spent the following weeks trying to fit into his good graces. 

Son of the Serpent King, he should have viewed the teen as another threat for the throne. But it appeared as though Jones had no desire to follow in his father’s steps, at least not when it came to the title. Another fifty tucked safely into his wallet, Pea sauntered towards the bar with his eyes glued to the back of Jughead’s frame.

He slid up along the counter, plucking the lime from Jug’s cola. “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Sweet Pea lifts his brows and cracks a smile in victory as Jughead’s previously gloomy features melt softly into a sort of delight. 

Pea’s chest filled with warmth. 

“Passing the time.” Jughead concedes with nod, sucks on the straw that floated out of his drink. “I was trying to sleep, but I just can’t seem to get my mind to stop. Nothing makes much sense, anyhow, so it’s more of a headache than anything.”   


“You’re distracted,” Sweet Pea offered, nodding in understanding when Jughead frowned in confirmation. He brought his hands up to rest on the teens shoulders, thumbs gently working against the knot kinked into the back of his neck; he noticed when Jug’s head dropped abruptly and his frame vibrated with his pleased hum. “See, you just need a little TLC.”

“Unless you’re offering your services free of charge, I’m SOL. Massage therapy is expensive.” he countered with sigh, resting his forehead in his palms.   


Sweet Pea chewed on his lip thoughtfully, eyes uncovering another mole just under the collar of his jacket. “I don’t mind giving you a massage.” he shrugs, “though I do have one request in return?”

Jughead’s frame stiffens under his hands. 

“Mind if I steal your hot water a couple times a week? My water heater broke.”  


The teen relaxes, and he shoots the Serpent a smile over his shoulder, “Yeah, I think I can swing that.”

“Great.” Pea smiles, patting Jughead’s back lightly, “No time like the present.”


	3. big fists, bigger heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sweet pea hates how much trouble jughead gets himself into, and he he hates how much he gives a fuck about him.

Sweet Pea hated Riverdale High. If not for their prejudice, then for the fact he was sitting in the student lounge, and was the only one stuck wearing a turtleneck. He hated it’s high ceilings and large classrooms. He hated how soft and comfortable everyone and everything looked. He hated how the bathroom stalls had doors - well, no. He actually didn’t totally hate that. 

But he definitely hated the fact he was reduced to nothing more than a gang member, and because of this, he now owned a rather sizeable collection of turtlenecks and scarves. 

He hated those, too.

Goddamn his pride and that neck tattoo. 

He sat on a seat next to Fangs, greeting him with a gruff “Hey” before pulling the apple from his brown bag. He bit into the sweetness of its core, watching his friends fingers work the deck of cards absently. They spent most of their lunches like this. Eating whatever they had, if they had anything, and passing the time with unenthusiastic conversation. 

Normally, at Southside, he would have been at a table full of Serpents, laughing about stupid things. Careless things. His conversation wasn’t monitored, no one ever thought to snake on a snake. Southside might have been a whole in the ground, but at least it had been one he was comfortable with. 

But today he was wearing a turtleneck under his jean vest and band tee, getting the rest of his high school diploma at Riverdale High instead. Something that definitely looked better on a college application than a high school on the side of town that’s crumbling in poverty and gang violence, but still not something Sweet Pea was sure was an upgrade. 

So when Jughead Jones strolled straight into the lounge ten minutes later, change in hand, causally giving them a “Oh hey, guys,” Sweet Pea wondered if Jones had a death wish. His Serpent leather clung to his frame, plaid shirt wrapped loosely around his hips - hips that Sweet Pea had already paid too much attention too over the last few weeks. He returns his eyes to the foyer, his stomach twisting nervously as Bulldogs stand from their seats. 

_ Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god.  _

Instantaneously, like magnets, Fangs and Sweet Pea stood on their feet; Jughead was refusing, again, and Reginald Mantle was not having his shit today. Come to think of it, Reggie hadn’t wanted any of their shit from the moment they walked in the front doors, and was doing a damn good job of making sure the experience was less than pleasant. He felt his nails dig deeply into the flesh of his palms, fists forming at just even the mere thought of Reggie pulling this  _ shi-  _

Red. That’s all he can see, that’s all he can feel. Immense heat rising to the surface of his skin as he rushed forward, hands gripping tightly onto the shoulders of a blue and yellow jacket, pulling as roughly as he could to drag them away from Jughead. 

Get them away from Jughead. 

Get to Jughead. 

**Get Jughead.**

Jughead was holding his own very well, which wasn’t much of a surprise to Sweet Pea. He handled the gauntlet well. He bounced back and recovered quickly. He was somewhat of a miracle mystery to Sweets. The teen reminded him of a walking, talking version of the quote “I can do this all day”. With that thought in mind, the Serpent reared his arm back and launched it forward into the closest Bulldog, just in time for Weatherbee’s arrival. 

He endured forty-five minutes of gruelling lecture and reminders of what expectations this ‘educational establishment’ had of its student body. How they were not exemplary, by any means, and were giving him second thoughts on taking them into the school at all. 

The door slammed behind them, leaving the group to disassemble once they had each finished receiving their individual punishments, leaving the Serpent alone with Jughead. “Was that necessary? Are you happy?” Sweet Pea fired, pointing to the door of the office they had just come out of. “Suspension, Jones? The hell, man?” 

“Do you even get it?” Jughead shot back vehemently, bracing his hands on his hips. “And you wanna know something? I don’t need you to always come saving my ass, I’m perfectly capable of doing that on my own, thanks.”

_ Jeesh _ . “Yeah, Jones. I get it.” 

“Why aren’t you more pissed, huh?” Sweet Pea blinked at the anger that’s hidden in the intricate hues of Jughead’s eyes. The green overpowered the blue, something that Sweet Pea noticed only ever happened when the teen’s emotions were on surface level. Much like himself, it appeared Jug had issues with his temper, too.

“I am pissed,” Sweet Pea assured him, but the boy merely folded his arms and lifted his brows in disbelief. “What do you want from me?” 

“Something.” Jughead was frustrated, clutching the beanie on his head, sinking to the floor in front of a row of lockers. “Anything. Protest Weatherbee’s rules — the ones that only apply to the southsiders that transferred in.”

“He threatened suspension, now we’re suspended.” Sweet Pea shook his head, a sudden exhaustion falling over his shoulders. “Next time, it’s expulsion. Is that what you want? There won’t be rules to follow if we don’t go here anymore.”

The teen didn’t appear to be listening. Instead, he was staring angrily at the tiles on the floor. Sweet Pea sighed, head falling back as a wave of frustration rolled down his spine. Then, he joined Jughead on the ground and pulled his knees to his chest. 

“Look, I hate this as much as you do. But this was expected — honestly, it could have been a lot worse.” Odd that it should be Sweet Pea trying to knock some sense into him — but also, perhaps, very fitting given that out of everyone, he might have felt the most out of place. 

The raven haired teen looked up at his towering figure, eyes careful and cautious as he nodded. “Fine. I’ll back off.” Sweet Pea had his doubts in Jughead’s words, but he reached forward and squeezed the boys hand in reassurance. 

“No you won’t. But I’ll keep you in check.” 

“The  _ fuck  _ you will.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Sweet Pea lifted the backpack up over his shoulder, grunting under the heavy weight of it all. Inside the bag, twenty pounds of chains and several large tools that were to be used as weapons in the upcoming fight. The one where he would fight to protect his home, the one where he would fight to avenge his best friend. 

The one that was dead. 

He was trying as hard to keep his composure together. Jughead had gone missing shortly after the news had been broken to them, which bothered the Serpent more than he wanted it to. They were at an idea about the entire situation, but that didn’t stop his heart from wrenching worriedly when he realized the Price was missing. 

The reality of what had just happened was finally sinking in - the riot outside was more proof of the hatred that fuelled this town. They were all dead men. It wasn’t just about Fangs anymore, it was about all of them. 

Not knowing where Jughead could possibly be was not helping Sweet Pea’s anxiety. 

And later, when FP received a call, and they were grouped together outside of their old stomping ground by the docks, Sweet Pea watched as their King emerged from the bushes, son in arms, covered in his own blood. Another strike of fear pulsed through his heart, lungs deflating at the sight. The emotion overcame him so quickly, he didn’t have enough time to registered what had even happened. 

Tears brimmed his eyes, a sob bubbling in his chest; he rushed over to where his bike was parked next to Toni’s unable to stand with the others, unable to hold his composure any longer. “Fuck,” he cried, hands braced on the seat of his Harley. “ **_Fuck!_ ** ” This time it comes out in an angry scream, energy pulsing forward to push the bike across the dirt path. 

His fingers then go into his hair, tugging harshly at the roots as he falls to his knees. So many things he should have said, so many things he wanted to do - and two of the only people he had ever felt any sort of any emotion for had just been ripped from him, all in the same night. 

The crushing sensation came down on his chest, like bricks stacking and building. His heart clenched tightly, breathing staggered and uneven. He recognized this feeling. He knew what came next, he knew how to stop it but no matter what thoughts he forced into his head, all he circled back to was the image of his hands covered in his best friends blood. 

And then, he would think about Jughead. 

And it would start all over again. 

He rocked back and forth on his knees for what felt like hours. The cold had numbed him, jeans soaked from the mud in which he had fallen into. Sweet Pea hardly registered Toni or her words as she dropped down on her knees next to him, hands soothing his matted hair, running them over his arms to try to pull him up from the ground. 

Key word was try. 

“What are we gonna do?” He mumbled, eyes bleary and unfocused as Cheryl dropped down onto the other side. There was an exchange of looks, knowing glances between lovers that understood exactly what this feeling was. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There wasn’t much to the scene that unfolded. It featured a raven haired stud perched on a stool at the bar, drink in his hand, hair falling forward into his eyes. He looked sexy, really. He wore his leather over a plain black tee that was stretched over the expansion of his chest, and his long legs were covered in an equally dark denim. A blue plaid shirt had been tied neatly around his waist, threaded through his belt loops to ensure it didn’t fall. 

His eyes were scouting the other heads around the area. He was observing their behaviours, having not had enough interaction in this setting to know what to do without the company of his date. When a couple approaches him, it’s easy to see how quickly he’s overcome with nervousness. Like a deer in headlights - or, perhaps doe was a more fitting description. 

The girl places her hand against his thigh, red nails dragging along the material, auburn locks framing her face. Her partner stands behind her, eyes equally hungry as they drink in the glory of the Southside King. From where Sweet Pea was standing, the man was trying very hard to convince Jughead to head out with them. 

It was only when he noticed Jughead’s polite refusal, and the less polite reaction from the pursuing male that he decided to step in. 

He made his arrival known, boots heavy on the ground as he came up behind the couple. “Beat it, asshat,” he growled, shoulders squared and head high, “He’s just not that into you.” 

“Oh, I see what’s going on here,” the man laughed, arm wrapping around the shoulders of his partner. His eyes now surveyed Sweet Pea, from his boots up to the curls in his hair. Something of approval lit fire in his eyes. 

Gross. 

“You’ll see absolutely fuckin’ nothing if you and your broad don’t motor. Right the fuck now.”  _ Please, oh please give me a reason to beat your face into the bar.  _

From the corner of his eye, however, he can see a clear look of disapproval. Blue hues squinted into slots, comfortably waiting for the confrontation to end so they could resume the rest of their evening, but knew that if Sweet Pea didn’t cool it, their evening would come to a regrettable end. 

“Not worth it.” Jughead mouth, a shake in his head. 

The girl slipped something into the front pocket of Jughead’s jacket, tapping the material twice. “In case you change your mind.” She sounded hopeful, swinging her eyes over to Sweet Pea’s enormous frame. “Maybe you can change his, instead.” 

“I said leave, moron.” The Serpent pushed past the couple to take his place on the stool next to Jughead; he tended to his drink, painfully aware of the couple retreating behind them. He could hear their mutters, but they only moved further into the bar to claim a table in the corner. 

Beer wasn’t as cold as it was before he left for the bathroom, but he swung it back in a few quick swallows. He started thinking about the napkin tucked into Jug’s jacket, then twisted in his seat to take hold of the edge. 

Justin and Dominique. 

Their numbers were scribbled at the bottom, along with a suggestive comment. One he didn’t give Jughead the opportunity to read; he crumpled it in his palm and sunk it into the water in a nearby glass. 

There was a sharp slap on his shoulder, followed by a harsh, “What the fuck, Pea?” 

Sweet Pea took a calming breath, pulling the air deep into his lungs, trying to steady the pulse that was racing. His entire body felt alive with fire, burning hot in his veins, lava pooling in his stomach. He turned back to Jughead, definitively locking his gaze, “We’re not looking to add to what we have.” 

A spur of curiosity crossed the teens face, eyes searching Sweet Pea’s features as he replied, “And what exactly do we have?” 

Gripping a fistful of the front of Jug’s shirt, he pulled him in until their lips met. Something that was meant to be short and fleeting was quickly overcome with a greater emotion. At the first taste of the boys tongue, Sweet Pea let out a deep moan of approval, reluctantly pulling away to give the teen an answer, before he no longer had the courage to say it. 

“I’m yours. And you’re mine.” He stated, fingers stroking the hair away from Jughead’s face. “And that’s all there really is to it.” 


End file.
